Bramblepoint [M] The Night Comes Down like Heaven

If shock had been absent before, it now surged over the demon like a tidal wave, crashing against his usual composure and leaving him speechless. Machi, often so collected and poised, found himself unable to meet the priest's gaze. A flush of a different kind rose to his pale features, hot and shameful.

He grappled for a response, words hard and heavy against lips strung shut with barbed wire. Machi's hand stroked absentmindedly at his throat, fingers tracing a line across his neck as if seeking solace in the familiar sensation. Silence stretched between them, thick and charged, while Machi's ears flattened against his skull, and his mind raced to find its footing.

Though Senmut's words were meant to reassure, the wolf-dog could not help but wish that the Erpa-Ha had not been so honest as a nick of pain cut into his heart. He had no expectations, yet Machi felt as though a book to be studied so that the scribe might impress the king. Legend's face flashed into his mind. The king's. He—
He could not think about it right now.

Finally, he breathed in deeply, his voice emerging as a soft, velveteen whisper. I enjoy your company very much as well, Senmut, he confessed, turning his gaze back to the prince. There was a vulnerability in his opalescent eyes, a rare glimpse behind the carefully constructed mask he wore.

He shifted closer, the space between them shrinking until their breaths mingled. With a smile still playing on his mouth, he met the man's in a reassuring kiss. You have a way of unsettling me, Machi murmured against the onyx of Senmut's lips, his voice barely more than a breath. It's impressive really, he added teasingly, pale hand stroking the curve of the prince's jaw.

A flicker of mischief danced in Machi's gaze, his maw curling into an impish smirk. Well then. I'll have to show you a time that would impress His Majesty as well, won't I? he whispered, the playfulness returning to his tone.

I would be interested in seeing what you might teach me, the halfbreed mused, eyes trailing along the russet throat, before lingering on the collarbone which he met with a gentle bite. He continued his trail downward, placing next a kiss above the heart, the pounding of which brought a giggle to his lips.

His movements were drawn-out, willful, as if savoring each touch, each sensation committed to memory. The lithe body pressed closer, seeking the warmth the scribe offered.

Machi's kisses continued their descent, each one a vow of passion wrapped in a playful nibble or a brush of lips. He reveled in the taste, the feel, the very essence of the man beneath him. He lingered at the priest's hip, placing a final kiss there before lifting his head to meet the verdant gaze once more. Shall I continue, Senmut?